


Later (That Turns Out To Be Never)

by newtisgood (gurajiorasu)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a bit of angst, mention of newt's suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurajiorasu/pseuds/newtisgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it’s not because of the limp that constantly reminded Minho that <i>yes, that lad had really jumped from the bloody wall</i>, Minho would think that his mind tricked him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Later (That Turns Out To Be Never)

Minho always thought that it was kind of bizarre; how Newt – _that_ Newt – could be the same Newt that jumped down the wall of the maze. The Newt that now roamed around the Glade was as good as the Newt who had welcomed him when he first emerged from the box. He was still as level-headed as he always was. Always calm, always dependable. It was as if the Newt who flew in search of his own death wasn’t real, like he was a glitch in a video game that Minho vaguely knew he had played before the Maze; a mistake that was never meant to be exist and definitely not a part of Newt that he knew for years.

Minho often found himself studying the boy ever since the incident happened. Despite the little time that he got in the same place as Newt – given the fact that he had to run throughout the day – his eyes never failed to find the blonde. Minho never approached him, but he made sure that he caught a glimpse of those golden locks while he’s doing his morning stretching and a good view of the tall figure the moment he passed the gate after his runs. His eyes followed Newt while he tied his shoes, his gaze burned a hole on Newt’s skin on dinners.

At first, Minho couldn’t get it. Newt was always had this bright line on the corner of his lips, making everything seemed a tad bit brighter as if everything was promised to be alright. Newt’s stern eyes were unwavering. His gaze was loving towards the younger boys and full of authority towards the stronger ones. His words were entirely thought through and they were somehow soothing despite the truth that they bore. If it’s not because of the limp that constantly reminded Minho that _yes, that lad had really jumped from the bloody wall_ , Minho would think that his mind tricked him.

That probably it was just a nightmare that Minho couldn’t cope with so well.

But, after days of looking, observing, and obsessing, Minho started to see it; the not-so-bright Newt that thought death was an exit. Minho could only see glimpses of him, but he’s there. There were times where Newt eyes would go hollow and morbid, like a Griever had just sucked the life out of him and he just let it be. When tasks were running out and there’s almost nothing that Newt had to do, he’d gaze at nothingness until one of the Gladers came to him and bugged him with something. Then, Newt would revert back to the usual Newt. It was so fast that it felt surreal even for Minho.

Then, Minho realized that Newt, more often than not, went missing at nights. After his usual patrol around the expanse of the Glade, giving blankets and arranging limbs as he went, Newt would disappear like a ghost. He’s not in the Homestead, not in the open, and not even around the Deadheads. Minho was always too tired to even be curious about it initially, but then the absence of Newt bothered him more than the absence of his own memory.

Before he knew it, Minho found himself tossing around until the sun came up. Not because his brain was working hard to solve the maze – no, not this time – but because his brain wasn’t capable to process anything other than Newt. And how dark Newt’s eyes could be when he thought no one was looking at him. So, one particularly quiet night, he got up, abandoned his sleeping bag, and wandered around the Glade.

Minho looked around, seeking for the slightest hint of the golden locks that he had grown fond of. He wandered into the woods, to the Bloodhouse, to the kitchen. He peeked around at the garden and walked along the walls. Then, he stepped into the Homestead with the lightest step that he could make.

Newt wasn’t there, but Alby was. Alby sat up the moment Minho stepped in and Minho froze in an instant.

Minho felt like a deer caught under headlights. He felt like Alby had seen him doing something forbidden even though, in his defense, Minho was just trying to find a way to get his sleep.

To Minho’s surprise, Alby didn’t look like he’s bothered by Minho snooping around at night. If anything, Alby looked like he was expecting Minho.

“Minho,” Alby whispered.

Minho felt the need to throw in some defense, “Don’t get me wrong, I was just–”

“Newt,” Alby cut Minho with the name. Minho closed his mouth at once and let Alby continue, “He’s in the Map Room.”

Minho didn’t know how Alby knew that he was looking for Newt, but he just nodded and turned to head to the said room. Worry that was overflowing from Alby’s eyes made him feel ice running down his spines and he didn’t like it.

“Hey,” Alby called out and Minho stopped. Alby was silent for three seconds and then he said, “Take care of him, would you?”

Minho didn’t even nod to that. He just dashed out, embracing the night air and proceeding to the Map Room. There was a heavy feeling inside his chest and all that he wanted to do was to find Newt and prove that there’s nothing to worry about. Newt was never the one to take care of. Never.

The moment he unlocked the door, he knew he was wrong.

Newt was there, sitting on the floor with back on the wall. His knees were drawn close to his chest and his head was tucked beneath it. Papers were scattered all around him, splayed on the floor until Minho couldn’t step inside without stepping on it.

Minho knew those papers. He immediately could guess what Newt was trying to do. He had done it countless times in his life, but never in this scale. Never with this much of desperation.

“I’m sorry,” Newt croaked from under his arms, “Borrowed your... properties without saying a thing.”

Minho could say something else, but what slid out from his mouth was, “It’s not strictly mine.”

“Well, Runners’,” Newt snorted a tiny laugh that sounded like despair compressed into one syllable.

Minho winced. It’s still weird for him to think about Newt as _not_ a Runner, especially because he couldn’t help but to think about what caused it. He sighed, exhaling a bit of uneasiness that roamed in his chest. He made his way across the room, picking up papers and stacking them up accordingly without even thinking about it, then he plopped down next to Newt.

From closer distance, Minho could see that Newt’s shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. He suddenly became aware at how thin and fragile Newt could look like, despite the muscles and the strong lines of body that he had. He could bet that Newt was crying, but he realized that he hoped that Newt wasn’t.

Newt didn’t deserve such pain.

Slowly, Minho sneaked an arm behind Newt’s shoulders. He didn’t know what he was going to do, though, so he resorted in patting Newt’s shoulder once and let his arm rest there.

“The Maze doesn’t make sense,” Newt said and it almost sounded like a wail that scraped Minho’s soul, “I searched. You searched. Every lovin’ day Runners run out there and search. But what exactly that we’re searching for? Whatever it is, I can’t find it, Minho!”

“The Maze never shucking makes sense, Newt,” Minho tried to keep his mouth from saying what he would regret. For once, he let his brain go faster than his mouth, “But there’s an exit somewhere.”

Newt finally looked up to Minho. His eyes were red and his face was damp. He was crying, obviously. His voice trembled when he said straight to Minho’s face, “I jumped off the shucking wall, Min! Even _that_ is not an exit!”

If it’s any other day, Minho would give Newt a painful sermon on how stupid Newt was for even trying. But that day, that exact second, Minho could feel the sadness that was flooding out of Newt’s eyes. It was so real, he could almost feel it pricking on his skin.

Then, Newt’s eyes dimmed gradually. He shifted his gaze down to his knees and hugged his legs. He looked away to the other side when he whispered, “Sorry.” Newt brought the back of his hand to his face, indicating that he was trying hard to erase the tears before Minho could see it, “Sorry that I’m such a coward. Bloody selfish coward. It’s just– I _hate_ this place, Min. And I’m sure that every lovin’ shanks here hates it too. I tried to get out from here alone, and I failed. Now I’m limp. A bad example. Useless. And on top of that ya shanks are still so shucking nice to me. I don’t deserve this, Minho. What I deserve is a banishment. Out in the Maze for one bloody night, let the Grievers have a feast on me and my bloody useless self. But, no. Everyone’s still looking up at me like I’m a good shank when I’m nothing but a piece of klunk.”

Minho inhaled and exhaled a long breath. He slumped further down to the floor, relaxing his muscles and resting his back before ruffling Newt’s hair that he suspected was made of pure gold. Then, he pulled Newt into his chest, practically locking Newt inside his arms.

Newt gasped, “What the–”

“Slim it,” Minho cut, feeling the heat spreading on his cheeks as he kept running his fingers through Newt’s hair, “I’m only going to say this once so you shank better listen to it good.”

Newt blinked. With such a position, he couldn’t look at Minho’s face. All that he knew was that Minho was warm and his arms felt like something that used to envelop him into protection. Those arms felt like his father’s, probably. If he ever had a father, that is.

“You’re no coward, you hear me? And if there’s a word that is totally not you, it would be selfish. You work harder than anyone, that much I know. Even with the limp, you work enough for three person–”

“I don’t–”

“Slim it, I said,” Minho nudged Newt’s head a bit, “I saw you, Newt. I _always_ look at you,” at this, Minho bit his lip, “Even when the others are sleeping, you still wander around checking things and all. The fact that you jumped is just a proof that you’re still a shucking human.”

Newt struggled to look up at Minho and he found the Asian blushed.

Minho only had a second to hesitate on what he’s about to say, “Because, really, sometimes I think that you’re too good to be a human.”

Newt stared at Minho’s eyes for a while, not knowing of what to say. The air between them was so heavy, the kind of heavy that they’re not familiar with. It was far from unpleasant, though. Rather, Newt felt better. Like a huge weight had just been lifted up from him. He felt a familiar feeling of comfort, something that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. He felt okay. He felt fine again.

Minho drained the gloom out from Newt. It was as if Minho had cast a spell that promised rainbows, magic, and unicorns. It was weird, because Minho only said a few sentences that were in the same line as the ones that Alby said to him, but somehow Newt felt like waking up. Like he’s done with all the tears and there’s actually nothing to weep about.

Somehow suicide sounded silly.

Newt chuckled and he realized that it had been too long since the last time he did it. Light slowly filled his eyes as he said, “Then, what am I? A ghost? Shucking griever?”

Minho took a moment to savor the blinding light that was Newt’s smile. Now he realized that he missed it so shucking bad. He laughed and shrugged, “Well, gonna say angel but it’d be too cheesy.”

Newt laughed louder and it sounded like heaven sang praises, “What on earth? Are you trying to hit on me?”

Minho’s eyes disappeared because of the laughter, “Well, we gotta fare with what we have, don’t we?”

“Shuck. Gross,” Newt scrunched his face but his laughter continued, “Even when we have limited choices, I’m sure this is not the best option.”

“Hey! Did you just say that I’m not the best compared to all those shanks?!” Minho acted like he was offended. He started to assault Newt with tickles that brought them closer and snatched their breaths away. Papers were pushed and toppled and they didn’t give a damn about it. When they had to stop because apparently breathing was needed, Newt was lying on his back with Minho beside him. They did nothing but breathing for a while, then Minho sneaked his hand to capture Newt’s. He covered his eyes with his other arm and said, “Seriously, tho. You’re good, Newt. Far more than anyone that my klunked brain could ever think of. I mean– if you’re a girl I’d fall in love with you in a zap.” Silence, then he groaned, “Shuck. I sounded like a sissy.”

Newt wanted to cry again, but for a completely different reason this time. He felt happy, more than anything. At peace. Light. He squeezed Minho’s hand, “Thank you.”

Minho didn’t need to uncover his eyes to know that Newt was crying again. He just knew. And he knew that this time, he didn’t have to worry about it. The tears were good. They were of acceptance; of gratitude. He let Newt be until Newt had no tears left to let out again. He stayed still, rubbing Newt’s hand every once in a while to let Newt know that he’s there. No matter what, he’s there. Then, the sky outside turned paler shade of grey and Minho knew he had to get going.

“Oh, shuck,” Newt cursed, “I kept you up all night, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Minho grinned because Newt sat up and his tousled hair was gorgeous, “Don’t worry. Gonna check the maze for a bit and get back in one piece, I promise.”

“You better,” Newt stood up and pulled Minho with him, “Go now. Frypan’s waiting. I’ll get this mess right before you know it.”

Minho nodded. He only stood still, though, observing as Newt picking up the papers and stacking them up neatly. He had been through the maze countless times. To be honest, it was more of a routine than anything at that point. He didn’t even dream that one day they’d find the way out anymore.

But that day, Minho found a new determination boiling in his blood. He had to get Newt out of there.

Newt looked up from where he was picking up papers, with a slight annoyance on his face, he said, “What’s with the smile, slinthead? You better go now, find us an exit.”

Minho smiled wide, “Let me fix my words.”

Newt arched his eyebrow.

“I love you. Girl or not,” Minho was relieved at how right it sounded; how right it felt rolling out his tongue.

Newt gaped. Slowly, a nice shade of red crept up his pale skin and he pretended to get back to his task just to hide his ridiculous smile, “Well, it’d be a lie if I was about to say that I hate you. But now is not time to be a lovely couple, is it? Once we’re out from this place, once we’re free, we can think about that.”

Minho grinned, “I can live with that.”

“Yeah, right. Now go,” Newt pushed him a little bit harshly towards the door.

Minho laughed and made his way out, towards the kitchen and then to the maze. A new wave of confidence washed over him.

He’s so going to find a way out. He’s so going to bring Newt to safety, and then they could talk about feelings and other things.

Little did he know that Newt would never gonna make it.


End file.
